I'll Cover You
by Search.For.The.Light
Summary: AU Slave. Blaine Anderson has never wanted a slave. But one day he stumbles upon a broken angelic boy and vows to protect him, not knowing the things that the one action has set into motion. Warnings: abuse, violence and smut in later chapters
1. Live In My House

**Hey there! So, I've recently read some fabulous Klaine Slave!AU and I thought I'd give my hand at this. This isn't going to be a very long story, I think, but I hope you enjoy it! Review if you like, I love to know what you think!**

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Blaine always hated the slave auctions.

He tried to keep his gaze adverted as he followed his parents, gut twisting at the smell of unwashed bodies. They weren't crying. It had always been the thing to freak him out. He could see one slaver beating his slaves, but the emotionless, blank face never left. No matter what the punishment, the slaves were not allowed to cry out or break face. Punishment would be harsh, even death if the masters so chose. It made him sick. His father would always point out the prized slaves, egging him onto buying one of them. Blaine always took one look at them and rejected the idea completely.

The sellers had the slaves set up on stages, the women and children first. Each slave was holding a placard, stating their age, health status and any skills they had. Children were always the most expensive, prized, his father said. After all, you could break them in. Women were next. The younger they were, the more expensive, especially if they were virgins. Blaine swallowed hard as he saw a girl near fifteen being led away by a man about fifty, a smug look on his face. Those unfortunate enough to be virgins were often used as sex slaves – something frowned upon by the law but certainly not outlawed. And then there were the men. Used for housework, yardwork, mills, anything one could dream of, they were a dime a dozen. His mother had said this morning that she needed two more, prompting the trip to the McKinley Slave Auction.

That and today happened to be Blaine's seventeenth birthday. According to law, upon someone's seventeenth birthday, they were legally allowed their own slave. It didn't matter how many times Blaine had protested that he didn't want or need one, his father was adamant. He was an Anderson and must hold up appearances. And that meant buying a slave, whether he really wanted to or not. Blaine kicked at a stone, watching it roll off into the distance as his dad gave an irritated sigh.

"Blaine, stop acting like a child. I don't see what's wrong with you, it's just a slave. There has to be someone that you like here that catches your attention." Edward Anderson said with a severe look at his youngest son.

Blaine shot him a petulant glance which the older man missed due to his wife, Gloria Anderson, tugging him away. Blaine wandered away from them, hoping that maybe if he could escape them for the time being. He didn't understand why he was being forced into this when he obvious he didn't want one. They were still _human. _Sure, the law said that the moment they had been sold into slavery by a parent, relative, spouse, or prison that they no longer had any rights, but that didn't change the fact that they were still human. And no human should be treated as such.

He hated when his parents regaled tales of their first slaves. His father often told him about the "milky whiteness" of the girl's thighs and the "full ripeness of her breasts". Edward Anderson didn't care that Blaine didn't want to hear this, being both gay and reluctant to hear anything of his parents' sexual lives. Gloria Anderson sighed many times over her first slave, who had died after a beating her father gave him when he broke a plate. Blaine was always equal parts sickened and horrified by these stories, but it was common. An owner had the right to do whatever they wanted to their slave. Whether it be use them for sexual purposes, work them, or beat them to death, it didn't matter. Slaves had no rights.

Their lives meant nothing.

Blaine was drawn out of his thoughts by a sound out of place at the market. Looking around, he realized that he had wandered into the Broken category of slaves. Some slaves were punished so severely that they were considered broken by the government – basically making them worthless due to the fact the masters had often beaten any usefulness out of them. Blaine had always done his best to stay away from this hearbreaking part, but somehow, he was drawn here.

It took him a moment to figure out what caught his attention but when he figured it out, he inhaled sharply.

_Crying._

A boy was curled up in a corner a couple of feet away on the nearby vendor, lying on ratty blankets, crying. The boy was extremely pale, his naked body covered in bruises and cuts, his hair so dirty there was no way you could tell what colour it was. And Blaine could help but be drawn by him. Tears were rolling down his cheeks slowly, his whole frail looking body shaking with the sobs. Blaine found himself kneeling by his side, reaching out with one hand to touch him. The boys' eyes fluttered open weakly, a soft whimpering sound escaping him, curling in on himself. Blaine was about to say something when a voice startled him from his thoughts.

"You don't want that one, boy. That one is too Broken to ever be fixed."

He glanced up at the vendor, and then chose to ignore him. He reached out with one hand to touch the slave's cheek. The reaction was instantaneous. Blue-green eyes flew open and the slave moved into a kneeling position, head on the dirty floor, shaking and cowering. He didn't say anything, just trembled as he waited for – for what? A blow? An order? Blaine felt sick, letting his eyes travel along the boys' body. Most of the bruises and cuts were healed poorly, but quite a few were still new. One of them, across his back, was bleeding and oozing – infected. No one would take care of that. Blaine knew that they'd just leave him here to die.

Something inside of him screamed in protest, and Blaine found himself on his feet, looking at the vendor. "How much."

If Blaine had told the vendor that the sky was green he couldn't have looked more surprised. The vendor gazed from the slave, to Blaine's determined face, obviously uncertain. There was no way the slave was worth much, but all vendors were out to make a prophet. Then again, everyone knew who Blaine Anderson was – the Anderson family was famous in Ohio for their music. There was no way he was going to cheat him out of anything.

"Just take him." The vendor said with a sneer. "It's not like he can do much anyway. I almost feel sorry for you, he's going to die within a fortnight."

Blaine said nothing, reaching down and touching the slave's cheek. He was still in that kneeling position, forehead pressed to the ground, sobs shaking his body. "Can you stand?" Blaine asked gently.

Immediately the slave tried to get to his feet – and nearly collapsed. Blaine caught him, nearly falling off balance when the pale boy recoiled away from his touch. His entire body was shaking and Blaine knew that there was no way he could stand. So he did the next best thing and scooped him up, holding him close and carefully to avoid the cut on his back. The boy shivered in his arms, looking up at him through wide, frightened eyes.

"Do you have a blanket? Or something for me to cover him with?" Blaine asked the vendor, who wordlessly handed him a scratchy old wool blanket. The vendor filled out the necessary paperwork, handing him the golden neck cuff that all owned slaves wore, and Blaine was off.

Blaine wrapped the blanket as best he could around the slave, walking away, holding him close. "What's your name?" he asked gently.

Slaves were usually stripped of their names unless stated otherwise. Blaine wasn't about to call the slave "boy", like his mother did, or "slave" as his father did. For a moment, he thought the frightened boy didn't hear him, or wasn't going to say anything. Some of the Broken, he had read, had been broken so badly that they lost the ability to speak. He was going to despair when a soft, melodious voice spoke.

"K-Kurt, master, if it pleases you."

_If it pleases you. _Like he wouldn't be pleased with the slave – no, Kurt's – name. Blaine smiled down encouragingly. "My name's Blaine. I promise you're safe. I'm going to take you home and we'll see how badly you're hurt. I'll fix you up real quick, okay? You're safe."

Kurt's expression didn't change – pale and frightened, eyes wide and distrusting. How many owners had the poor boy had to give him that expression on his face? Blaine shifted him in his arms and Kurt let out a pained whimper, biting his bottom lip. Blaine immediately felt guilty – he hadn't meant to bump any of the bruises or cuts, but the boy was littered with them.

"I'm s-sorry, Master, p-please forgive me!"

Blaine blinked at the boy in his arms, momentarily confused as to why he was apologizing. Kurt's hands had raised into a defensive gesture and it felt like Blaine had been hit in the stomach. He expected to be beaten. For being in _pain. _Blaine felt his heart break a little bit and he had to swallow hard before he could speak.

"Kurt, look at me." The order was gentle, but an order nonetheless. Kurt lowered his hands, sea coloured eyes raising to fix on a spot on Blaine's face – his chin? Forehead? Anything but his eyes. It wasn't what Blaine wanted, but it would do for now. "I am not going to hurt you, okay? I'm going to take you home and get you cleaned up. You're safe with me, I promise." Kurt's expression didn't change. How could Blaine make him believe him? "I will take care of you, I promise, little dove. Believe me."

Kurt studied his face, obviously searching for… something. He must've found it because his body relaxed fractionally and he nodded, dropping his gaze again, his head slowly, timidly, moving down to rest against Blaine's shoulder. A tiny victory. Blaine tightened his grip on the boy, still disbelieving that he had done this. But now that he had him, he was going to protect him.

At whatever the cost.


	2. I'll Be Your Shelter

**Wow guys! I'm stunned by the response to the first chapter. All the followers and the favourites. I'm glad you like it! This chapter's a bit longer. Hope you enjoy it and leave a review if you're so inclined!**

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Blaine was glad that he had taken his own car to the market. He knew that his parents wouldn't be pleased that he had a Broken slave in his possession, but they couldn't say anything to it. Legally, Kurt was his, even though Blaine hated to think about it. But Kurt legally belonged to his, was his charge. The ride home was quiet. He had set the pale boy in the back seat, telling him to rest. Kurt obviously was exhausted – how long had he been forbidden to sleep? – and even though he fought to stay awake, he had soon passed out. The ride back to Westerville is silent. He doesn't play music like he normally does for fear of disturbing Kurt's sleep, and he has to figure out what to do with him. He had never planned on having a slave, so he really had no idea what to do with one.

First thing's first, though. Kurt needed a bath and a doctor. Doctors didn't like taking care of slaves and often charged more, but money was never a problem for the Andersons. He didn't know how badly Kurt was beaten. The cut across his back was obviously infected, red and angry looking. The multiple bruises and cuts on his back and chest were half-healed and he suspected that by the way he curled in on himself, his ribs were hurting. He was also so thin – he could count Kurt's ribs, hear every breath. How long had it been since he had a proper meal? Blaine was filled with the urge to stuff him full of food but knew that'd probably make him sick.

Next, he'd have to find some way to explain why he brought a Broken home to his parents. He doubted they'd accept "he needed me". He wasn't sure what skills Kurt had, but he was sure he could figure out something. Blaine was neat by nature, so it wasn't like Kurt had much to pick up after, but they'd figure something out. Perhaps he knew how to play the piano. Probably not, seeing as that was a fancy talent. He'd figure that out later. Pulling up to his parents' house, he was relieved to see that his parents weren't home yet.

Opening the back passenger seat, he gently touched Kurt's cheek. He didn't wake up. Poor boy, Blaine didn't blame him. He looked to be about Blaine's age, maybe older, but while asleep like this… god, he looked so innocent. What had happened to put him in the slave market? Blaine desperately wanted to find out, but that'd wait until later. Kurt didn't wake up as Blaine lifted him up and walked inside with him. Blaine had a whole wing of the Anderson house to himself, and no one would bother him there. He put the boy on his bed before going to the bathroom, running a bath.

As he did, he read the papers the slaver had given him. According to the records, Kurt was eighteen and had a education through tenth grade. He was skilled with his hands and, one person had noted, could sing. Blaine couldn't imagine the broken, scared boy singing, but falsifying records was a serious crime. He hadn't ever been to the doctor, at least, not since he had been in the slave trade. Blaine tutted in disapproval. Kurt looked so frail and broken – he needed a doctor, quickly.

A crash from his room made Blaine jump. Turning off the water, he bolted to the room where he found a wide eyed Kurt curled in the middle of the bedroom floor, once again in that submissive state. "Kurt? Kurt, are you okay?" He asked.

"M-Master, forgive me, I didn't mean to f-fall asleep, I'll do better next time!"

The words made Blaine want to cry, and he knelt down next to him. "Kurt, I _told _you to sleep. You need to sleep to get your strength back." He said soothingly.

Kurt eyed him like he didn't quite believe what he was saying. "Master's not going to hit me?"

Blaine had never struck another person in his life. The fact that this slender, frail boy was afraid to be struck… God, what had he gone through? Blaine blinked back tears. "I'm not going to hit you. And, please, call me Blaine. Not Master."

Kurt shook his head minutely, not in disagreement, but something else. "B-Blaine?"

"Yes, that's me. My name's Blaine Anderson." Blaine didn't miss the way his glasz eyes widened slightly and sighed. "Yes, I'm one of _those _Andersons, but let's ignore that for right now. I have a bath ready for you, we need to get those cuts clean."

Kurt had an incredulous look on his face, hope shining in his face. "A bath?" There was so much longing in his voice that Blaine couldn't help but smile.

"Yeah. May I pick you up?"

"You're asking?" The words slipped out before Kurt had a chance to think about it, that was obvious. His eyes widened and he covered his mouth, cringing away from him when he put a soothing hand on his shoulder.

"Kurt. You might be a _slave_," Blaine nearly spat the word. "But you're still human. I don't want to hurt you, but I don't think you can walk. And I don't want to hurt you further. So, please?"

Kurt watched him for a long moment, and Blaine felt like he was being judged or measured. Then, very slightly, the porcelain boy nodded, actually leaning against Blaine as he lifted him up. Blaine carefully took him to the bathtub, glad for once that slaves were sold naked and gently set him in the hot water. Kurt let out a tiny whimper and Blaine glanced down, worried that he hurt him, only to find the boy's eyes were just with bliss. Immediately the water around him turned darker, with filth that Blaine didn't even want to think about.

"Can I wash your hair?" He asked softly. "We'll fill it once to wash, and then another so you can soak, okay, Kurt? Can you hand me the shampoo?"

Kurt nodded, standing up and grabbing the shampoo that was on the shelf, handing it to him. He gently washed the boy's hair, slowly revealing to be a chestnut colour. Kurt slowly leaned into the touch, eyes falling shut obediently when he rinsed out the shampoo. Kurt opened his mouth, then shut it, gazing at Blaine, biting his bottom lip.

"Yes?" Blaine asked him, running his hands through Kurt's hair, marveling how soft it was.

"M-Mas… Blaine? Might you use conditioner, too?" Kurt whispered, looking down, tightening his grip on his fingers.

"Of course!" Pleased that Kurt had actually requested something, Blaine conditioned as well before draining and then picked up a washcloth, handing it to him. For a moment, Kurt just stared at it. "Can you wash yourself? I can do it if you want, but…"

"I can do it!" Kurt's head snapped up, gazing at Blaine with something that looked like terror, and Blaine froze his hands, which had been rubbing the soap down his chest. Blaine simply nodded, handing it to him before sitting back.

"At least let me wash your back." Blaine requested and, after a hesitation, received permission to do so.

Blaine was as careful as he could be, but there were still pained whimpers whenever he hit open cuts, especially the infected one. Blaine swallowed hard when he came across the tattoo on his lower back, inked in red and black – "Slave". He hated see it. Hated that it was marring the beautiful porcelain skin. Sighing softly, he sat back, watching as Kurt cleaned himself rather meticulously. "Will you be all right if I leave you here? I need to make a call."

Kurt looked up at him, eyes wide again. "Y-you trust me alone here?"

Blaine frowned. "Of course. You're not going to run away, try to drown yourself or steal anything, right?" Kurt shook his head wordlessly. "Then yeah. I'll be right back. I'll just be down the hall, okay?" He refilled the tub for him, then left the bathroom.

After making an appointment for the next day with the doctor – who was [i]not[/i] happy to be looking over a slave but, again, the Anderson name claimed power, he came back in to find Kurt nearly asleep in the hot water. He gently touched his shoulder, waking the boy up, who blinked blurrily at him.

"I scheduled a doctor's appointment tomorrow. C'mon, you need to get out and get some sleep."

Blaine was wrapping one of the fluffy towels around Kurt when the boy asked, softly, "Why?"

"Why what?" Blaine asked, concentrating on drying the boy's hair.

"Why are you doing this?"

Kurt sounded bewildered and Blaine took his time thinking through his thoughts before answering. "I hate slavery. I think it's cruel, wrong, and dehumanizing. I don't care if a piece of paper says you're mine. You're still a human, with thoughts, feelings and words. You don't deserve that." He drew the towel around Kurt, who clutched there. "When I saw you lying there, I couldn't… you look so _fragile _that it hurt. I don't care I legally own you, Kurt. I want to be your friend. From one human to another."

For a moment, Blaine thought Kurt wasn't going to answer. And then a small, sad smile appeared on his face, making Blaine's voice hitch. He was _gorgeous. _"I don't know if this is… a dream, or a trick… but I haven't had a friend in years. I'd like that." A yawn split his face, though only gave Blaine an apprehensive look, who just smiled.

"We'll work on it. For right now… let's get you better, okay?" Blaine held out clothes to him. "They're my old ones… I think they'll be a bit small, but we'll find you something later."

Kurt took the clothes like they were made of glass, eyes shining. "Real clothes? For me?" He clutched them like they were about to be taken away, watching as Blaine nodded. Given the permission, he changed, not even appearing to mind that they were far too small.

Blaine carried him to his bed again, where Kurt was asleep within moments. He turned off the light, opening his laptop so he wouldn't bother the exhausted slave, when he heard a soft, sleepy voice speak.

"Blaine?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you…"

Blaine blinked back the sudden tears, making a tiny nose of agreement. Maybe this could be a good thing, despite the circumstances. He could only hope.


	3. Just Pay Me Back

Oh my God guys. I am SO overwhelmed by the response to this story. Thank you so much for the alerts and favourites and reviews. They make me smile so much and make my day so much brighter. Here's the next chapter, sorry it took so long, life sort of got in the way. Damn you. But here! Hope you enjoy it!

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"_Worthless."_

_The words came with a slap to the face, sending him flying, pain blooming in his jaw. He felt himself hit the ground hard but didn't dare get up or look up. He stifled the cry of pain, but obviously wasn't quiet enough. A fist grabbed his hair, making him sob, and he felt blows begin to rain down on his back. He desperately tried to get to his safe place in his mind, where he could ignore the beatings, pretend his father was still alive, that all was well…_

"No!"

His own voice jolted him into sudden wakefulness, and Kurt Hummel sat bolt upright, tears streaming down his face. For a moment, he looked around wildly, his back burning, not remembering where he was or how he got into the neat, clean room, in the bed. Master was going to be so mad, he needed to make breakfast and coffee and –

Then he remembered.

The curly haired boy at the market.

Tender words.

Kind touches.

Slowly his body relaxed, though his eyes darted around the room. Sun was just filtering down through the window, and the room was empty. There was a rumpled pile of blankets on the floor where Master – _Blaine – _he reminded himself of the order, had obviously slept. That in itself confused him. Why was he in the bed and Blaine on the floor. He didn't buy the whole friendship spiel the boy had said last night – there was always something that they wanted. Normally he was good at figuring them out. The last Master had wanted sex. The Mistress before that, his singing voice.

What would Blaine want from him?

Part of him wanted to believe Blaine's words. He hadn't had a friend in such a long time… he could barely remember Mercedes or Rachel's faces anymore. And Blaine had been so tender, too, last night. He remembered how he had backed off immediately when Kurt flinched away at the offer to wash him – (_dirty hands rubbing over him, touching, rubbing, pinching, hurting, never stopping_) or how his amber eyes shone when he spoke. Another time, another place, he would've thought Blaine Anderson to be handsome. But now the idea of that filled him with panic.

The logical part of him told him that he needed to go back to his subspace. The only reason he wasn't totally shattered like the ones he had seen at the market was because of that. He would think of anything else in any given situation – often music. Reciting lyrics, chords, anything in his head to distract him from the pain. Blaine hadn't given him a set of duties yet – he could only pray that he was one of those masters that bought pretty things to look at, not to actually play with.

Kurt shook his head, an act that he immediately regretted, the world spinning about him. How many days had it been since he had eaten? Four? Five? He was surprised he hadn't passed out yet. The room was empty and after debating with himself for a couple of minutes, he forced his aching and burning body out of bed to find his master. The bath had done wonders, making him feel slightly more human, but everything hurt. After making the bed as neat as he could – his new master seemed to have an obsession with stuffed animals – he wandered down the hallway, following some clanging sounds, making his way to what looked like a chef's happy place but must be the kitchen, while his curly haired master slaved over the stove. He must've made a noise or something, because Blaine looked up.

"Oh! You're awake, I thought you'd sleep longer." Mas – _Blaine – _said with a frown. "Did you sleep all right?"

Kurt was at a loss of what to say. If he admitted that he hadn't, he'd admit to being weak, and masters didn't like that. But hadn't Blaine seen him at his weakest already? Luckily, he didn't have to answer because another voice, clearly irritated, interrupted. "Blaine, it is six in the morning, and I have other patients. Can we hurry up?" Kurt jumped when he noticed the small Latina girl in the corner, eyes widening when he saw the pin attached to her rather low cut shirt marking her as a medical intern.

Kurt flinched at the harsh tone, dropping his gaze, surprised when Blaine snapped, "Santana, you promised to do this favour _without complaining_. So. Stop complaining. You're scaring him. Kurt, come here."

Kurt's feet took him there automatically, head bowed, waiting for the reprimand or the blow. Instead, warm fingers tilted his head up and he was forced to meet amber eyes that looked… concerned? Kurt quickly dropped his gaze. He couldn't help but flinch when warm and slightly sticky fingers tilted his head up, forcing him to meet Blaine's eyes.

"Hey. Santana's a bit snappish and rude, but she won't hurt you. I meant what I said, Kurt. I won't let anyone hurt you."

What was this man playing at? Before being put into circulation, he would've found the earnestness endearing and would've trusted him immediately. But he had seen this before. The master would act all sweet and nice to earn your trust, and then turn around and use it against you. No. Not this time. Kurt would be prepared. It didn't matter if sincerity rolled off of him in waves, or how Kurt could easily see himself sinking into those amber eyes, or how the gentle way Blaine was stroking his cheek to calm him down. The moment he let down his guard would be the moment he sealed his fate.

"Excuse me. I am not rude. I am doing this out of the goodness of my heart, Anderson, so don't test me. Skinny white boy, get your slave ass over here."

Kurt loathed to break the connection with Blaine, but he found himself kneeling at Santana's feet. She heaved an impatient sigh. "How the hell am I going to check you out if you kneel? On your feet. Facing me and strip."

Kurt obeyed, tensing up when her hands touched his body, ready for the fondling or the hurting. Doctors were notorious for the mistreatment of slaves, claiming it was just medical practice. But despite her harsh words and fierce growls, her hands were gentle and firm as she checked him out. He couldn't bite back the pained noises as she touched over one of the slashes on his back, but she didn't seem to notice. After taking his temperature and pulse, she turned to Blaine.

"Damn, Anderson, you sure know how to pick them. I have no idea how the fuck he's still alive, from the way he's been treated. Are you sure he's worth it?"

Kurt flinched.

_Worthless._

He waited for Blaine to affirm Santana, to agree, some desperate part of him wanting to hear –

"Yes. I couldn't just let him die, Tana. Tell me what's wrong so I can fix it."

…Fix it?

Fix… him?

Kurt stared at Blaine in shock as Santana rattled things off (_"Severe starvation and dehydration – don't feed or water him too much at first or it'll make him sick. Liquids only for a couple days, then something easy for the stomach. Two cuts are infected, I'll leave antibiotics. He has a slight fever, probably from the infection, so keep him warm. One of his ribs is either cracked or bruised, either way, make sure he doesn't do any lifting or bending.") _and Blaine nodded. Blaine actually was paying money to help him out. He wasn't throwing him out on the streets, he wasn't getting him euthanized. Actually paying good, hard earned money for him, Kurt Hummel, a slave.

Something inside of Kurt broken – or mended. He didn't know which. He hadn't had real medicine since his father had died. He hadn't had a bath unless it was out in the rain or he was bathing one of his maters. Real food was just a dream, he was usually left to eat the leftovers off his master's plates. And yet Blaine had given him clothes, bathed him, and now he was paying money to get medicine.

Kurt didn't realize he was crying and blubbering until Blaine's concern voice went, "Hey, hey, hey, calm down, what's wrong?"

Kurt couldn't articulate his thoughts. Blaine had ordered him earlier to speak freely, but he didn't know how to at the moment. So he settled for sobbing out, "T-thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you."

Blaine's hand closed around his arm and tugged him forward and suddenly he was in a warm embrace. He blinked in shock, seeing over Blaine's shoulder Santana smile and leave, tensing. Blaine was touching him. Not even in a sexual way. Not in a healing way. Just a… hug. He hadn't been hugged… Kurt slowly, timidly, wrapped his arms around Blaine's solid, warm form.

"I promise you, Kurt. As long as you're mine, I'll take care of you. I won't hurt you, I won't beat you, I won't take away food or basic human necessities if I'm upset. You can trust me, there's no need for you to be scared anymore. I'll protect you."

His old master's voice was whispering in his ear, calling him worthless, useless, that no one would actually want him. But compared to the warmth of the boy holding him gently, compared to the touches, his old master was nothing. Not when the reality in front of him – oh, God, he hoped this wasn't a dream because if it was he wouldn't be able to stand it, it'd be the one thing that broke him forever – was so vivid.

He was going to give Blaine the one thing that could shatter him for the rest of his life, and it made his body shake harder, Blaine's gentle whispers and soothing words rolling over him in waves. Swallowing hard through the lump in the throat, the salve whispered the three words that he knew could spell out his end:

"I believe you."


	4. With One Thousand Kisses

**Hey guys! Thank you so much for the reviews, the alerts and favourites. They make me smile. I treasure each and every one of them, and can't believe the response to this story. I hope you like the next installment of ICY, and please let me know what you think! I've planned about fifteen chapters, so sit tight and I hope you like what you've read so far!**

**Warnings: Brief violence.**

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In the days following the doctor appointment, Kurt found himself watching his new mater more or and more. He quickly found out that Blaine was as kinder than anyone he had ever met. He was always asking if Kurt was comfortable, if he needed or wanted anything, or if there was anything he could do to help. It baffled him and was a bit off putting. Who ever heard of a Master who bought his slave a bed because of a small comment that the floor hurt his back? He also found out about the blinding sincerity the young man seemed to shine. His anxious and eager amber eyes seemed to burn into Kurt's, filling him with a sense of peace. Although he still jumped at loud noises and couldn't help but fall to his knees when Blaine walked into the room, he also couldn't help but believe him when Blaine said that he didn't want him to hurt.

Trusting him was terrifying. He hadn't trusted anyone in such a long time, and closing himself off had protected him as best as he could. Kurt knew that he was broken – the mark on his back, the hollowness of his eyes when he looked in the mirror… it was all there. He knew that Blaine could shatter him if he wanted to, and yet, he found himself telling that nasty doubtful part of himself that Blaine wouldn't do that. The boy who had only been kind and caring him wouldn't do that. Kurt felt himself relax around him, and Kurt found himself _wanting_ to spend time with Blaine. He wanted to know who the young curly haired man was.

And for the first time in years, Kurt was feeling something other than fear and pain. He felt _safe._

This point was pounded home two weeks after Blaine bought him, when the Anderson parents came home from a business trip.

Blaine was in his room, doing homework ("I go to a private school, though most of the classes are online. The commute is far too much effort, plus I'd rather be here with you than anything else."), and had told Kurt to go make himself something to eat. One thing that was disconcerting about Blaine was that he wanted to know what Kurt liked. And although he wanted to please him, Kurt hadn't been able to answer well. He hadn't been _Kurt Hummel_ in so many years, he had forgotten who that person was. After some gentle badgering, he admitted that he enjoyed cooking, something Blaine expressed delight in ("Are you kidding me, Kurt? That's wonderful! I can barely cook toast without burning it. Soup's okay because all I have to do is re-heat it, but I'm the guy who burned mac and cheese, so…"). And although Blaine was resistant to the idea of putting Kurt to work – another idea Kurt really couldn't comprehend – he reluctantly agreed to Kurt doing all the cooking, as long as Blaine could help with the washing up.

A Master doing work was definitely a different sight for him, that's for sure.

On that particular evening, Kurt was making grilled ham and cheese sandwiches as Blaine's request. His leg and back weren't hurting as much, though Blaine still insisted that he sat when he wasn't moving around. He had been wondering if Blaine would want root beer or milk with his dinner when the door flew open, Gloria and Edward Anderson walking in. Blaine had told him that they were often away on business, leaving him and his nineteen year old brother, who was at the dorms at OSU, alone, so Kurt hadn't been expecting anyone to come home, let alone punched and slammed into a wall. One minute he had been turning off the griddle and putting the sandwiches on a plate, and the next moment he was pinned to the wall by his throat by an angry Edward Anderson.

"Filthy slave, what the hell do you think you're doing? Stealing our food? Contaminating our house?" The burly man growled, shaking him, making his back collide painfully with the wall.

Kurt couldn't think, couldn't speak. His air was getting cut off, and yet, his hands didn't come up to fight it. The training that had been literally beaten into him stopped him from fighting, even has he saw spots clouding his vision. He wasn't hearing Edward Anderson, instead his old Master, calling him over and over _worthless. Waste of space. Only good for fucking and beating. Useless._ Why had he deluded himself that he was anything better than what he had said?

Just as black was encroaching on his vision, he faintly heard a yell, "What – get _off _of him!" and he was suddenly wrenched away. He fell to the ground and was almost immediately pulled into strong and warm arms. Kurt's chest heaved in an effort to get air, blinking up at one very angry looking Blaine Anderson.

"What the hell is this, Blaine? You can't – that thing belongs to you?" demanded Edward, looking from Blaine to Kurt incredulously.

* * *

Stupid. So _stupid._ Blaine chided himself as he glared furiously at his father, cradling Kurt in his arms. The poor boy was shaking, gasping for air, his glasz eyes terrified. Blaine had never seen such a terrifying sight as his father choking the motionless boy, and he had pushed the man out of the way without thinking about it. He could already see bruises forming on the pale skin of Kurt's throat, and swore again, eye flashing up to his father's.

"_He's_ not a _thing._ His name is _Kurt."_ Blaine snapped, although he knew that it didn't matter in his dad's eyes. His father was a traditionalist. The moment that a person was put in circulation was the moment they ceased to be a person and became a thing. Blaine swallowed back the bile in his throat as he said, "And yes. He's… he's mine."

He fully expected Kurt to move away or something like that, since he had been telling the young man over and over that he didn't want to own him, that he was human. Then he went and said _that._ But to his surprise, he felt Kurt press closer to him, pressing his face into Blaine's chest. Something warm settled in his stomach, but he pushed the feeling away as his mother spoke.

"Blaine, honey, why would you buy one so useless looking? So scrawny and thin… I'm sure that you could do so much better." Gloria Anderson said it sweetly, looking from Blaine to Kurt. Blaine felt Kurt flinch in his arms and he tightened his grip on him. She wasn't as bad as her husband, though Blaine knew that slaves were just playthings for her. He felt sick as he saw her clinical eye on the boy in his arms.

"He's thin and scrawny because his last owners weren't _feeding_ him. He's not useless; he was obviously making me dinner when you guys came in." His father went to say something, but Blaine cut him off. "It's my choice, Dad. You said to get one, and I did. Which one I want is up to me, not you."

The air was tense for a minute while the two Anderson men stared each other down, before Gloria put her hand on her husband's arm, tugging him gently away. "We aren't staying anyway, Blaine. We were just getting some clothes and things; we are meeting with the Smythe family in Washington D.C to discuss a business deal." She told her son with an only slightly strained smile. "So why don't you and you slave run upstairs and we can put this business behind us."

Blaine could care less where his parents were going, since they had been doing it since he was old enough to take care of himself. Without saying another word, he lifted Kurt in his arms, snagging the plate of sandwiches, going upstairs. Kurt's shaking hadn't ceased, and when Blaine set him on his bed, he let out a tiny whimper. Blaine crossed the room to shut the door, fist clenched in anger, closing his eyes for a moment. His heart was still pounding, anger coursing through his veins. His parents hadn't even cared. They hurt a _person_, and yet they didn't care. They saw Kurt as nothing. Blaine couldn't understand, didn't understand how, or why, they would do something like that. Kurt was a beautiful, living, breathing person. And yet, his father had tossed him into the wall like he was a plate or something!

Blaine never wanted to hurt someone so much in his life.

"B-Blaine?"

Kurt whispered voice broke through his thoughts and he turned, eyes opening. The boy was on his knees on the bed, arms wrapped around himself, tears in his eyes. Dark bruises had already formed around his throat and Blaine's gut twisted when he saw the red mark across one of Kurt's pale cheeks. For a moment, they just stood there, watching each other, and then Kurt shakily extended a hand.

"Blaine…"

Blaine stared at the hand for a moment. Kurt hadn't willingly initiated any contact. He leaned against Blaine when he needed to, and let Blaine help him into and out of the bathtub, but all other times he kept his body parts firmly to himself. Blaine himself was a very physical person, having to stop himself from running his hands through Kurt's chestnut hair, or drawing him into a hug. Blaine's hesitation was obviously perceived as a rejection by Kurt, and he was just drawing his hand back when Blaine moved forward and took it. It was cold and shaking in his warm one.

"Kurt…"

Kurt looked at their hands for a moment, the most curious and unreadable look in his eyes, before his face crumpled and he began to cry. Blaine watched him with a certain amount of alarm, as he had never really been good with tears, and carefully got onto the bed. Slowly, as not to startle or hurt Kurt, he drew the boy onto his lap. He was stiff for a moment before slumping on Blaine's chest, sobbing into his shirt, clutching his hand, his free hand tentatively curling in his shirt as he cried.

"Oh… Kurt, I'm so sorry… please don't cry… I'm sorry…" Blaine felt vaguely sick as he brought his arm around Kurt, pressing him closer, careful of the healing cut on his back. He had been assuring Kurt this whole time that he was safe, and then his father assaulted him in the kitchen. How was Kurt ever going to believe him now? Why would he? Blaine knew that he wouldn't, if he was in Kurt's position.

But, once again, Kurt surprised him, looking up at him through teary eyes, a frown on his face. "W-why are you… apologizing?"

Blaine carefully raised his hand, moving it slowly to brush the tears away from Kurt's eyes, heart wrenching at the flinch. "You got hurt…"

"You… protect me." Blaine raised his eyes to meet Kurt's. "You pulled him off of me… yelled at your own father because of me." Kurt's voice was barely a whisper, and there was a certain amount of awe in his voice.

"He had no right to hurt you."

Kurt shook his head, whether or not in disagreement was unclear. "You protected me. You _saved_ me."

Blaine swallowed. The awe and amazement in his voice was making him blush, and he fiddled with the hem of his shirt. "Of course I did. I promised you'd be safe here, Kurt. I mean that. They might see you as a slave, but you're a person. And no one deserves to be treated like that."

Kurt shifted in his lap, and Blaine released him, thinking that he wanted to move away. Instead, Kurt slowly wrapped his arms around his neck, ducking his head into the crook of Blaine's neck. For a moment, Blaine couldn't breathe. Kurt's warm, still too-thin body, was pressed against him, and although he was shaking, the arms around his neck were firm.

"_Thank you."_ Kurt whispered in his ear. "No one… These past years, all I've known was violence. But you… You're so different. This seems like some dream… and if it is, I never want to wake up."

Blaine turned his head, brushing a kiss across Kurt's temple. "This isn't a dream, Kurt. I know we're not equal in the eyes of the law, but… I want to be your _friend._"

Kurt pulled back to look into his eyes, and Blaine felt like he had been punched in the gut. A smile was on Kurt's face. And not the sad little smile he had been wearing around him normally, but a true, open, breathtaking smile, one that made his sea coloured eyes light up. "I haven't had a friend in so long. But, Blaine… I think we are already friends." He bit his lip. "You're the only one I trust."

Blaine's heart skipped a beat, and he nodded. "I'll never break that trust, Kurt."

Kurt nodded and pulled away, and Blaine squashed the feeling of missing Kurt's body against him. "I believe that." He said simply.

A silence settled upon the two boys as they ate the cold sandwiches Kurt made them. And that night, there was a sense of peace between them as they went to sleep.

But that night was the first night Blaine moaned Kurt's name as he came onto his fist, the memory of Kurt's warm body pressed against his.


	5. Be My Lover

**Hey everyone! Hope you guys all had a wonderful Thanksgiving or, if you're not in America, a happy turkey day! Thanks for the lovey reviews - they always make me smile. Here's the next chapter for you all, a bit early!**

**Warnings: Smut.  
**

* * *

Blaine had a problem.

And its name was Kurt Hummel.

Not that Kurt was being a problem in and of himself. Because he wasn't. No, it was the opposite, actually. Months had passed since the incident with his parents, them rarely home and leaving Blaine to his own devices, and something inside of Kurt seemed to unfurl. Shyly at first, but with more confidence at the positive reaction from Blaine, he had begun to show his old self. Critical comments directed to his beloved bowties (always met with indignation), sarcastic comments about how he only seemed to play Top 40s, or the way Kurt more or less decided his clothes for the day. Blaine watched with delight as the fear seem to fade into the background – there were still moment where he flinched back if Blaine moved too quickly, or cringed at a raised voice, or woke up screaming from nightmares.

The first time that had happened, Blaine had gotten home late from a doctor's appointment. Kurt had been cleaning Blaine's room (he insisted on having some duties, primarily over the housework) or something, ending up falling asleep on the bed set out on the floor for him. After draping a blanket over the slumbering boy, Blaine had gone into the kitchen to grab something to eat, knocking over and breaking a plate on the ground. The shattering prompted a scream of terror that chilled Blaine to the bone. Racing up there, he found a still asleep Kurt, sobbing and thrashing. It had taken over ten minutes to wake him up, then remind him where he was, and that he was safe. Kurt had more or less become a tumor at Blaine's side, and the two of them had ended up falling asleep in Blaine's bed together.

Imagine Blaine's surprise, the next time, when a timid Kurt asked if Blaine could hold him while he slept, citing the fact it made him sleep better. And who was Blaine to say no? So every night the two of them fell asleep with Kurt snuggled against Blaine, his back to Blaine's chest, Blaine's arms loosely around his waist. Blaine had been rather surprised at the comfort he got from it, of having a warm body to share his bed with. Of course Blaine had always been a physical person, with initiating hugs and other light touches and the like. But something like this? He hadn't really expected.

Nor did he exactly expect his _body's_ reaction to it.

And okay, all right, he knew that he was a teenage boy and teenage boys had urges. He was no stranger to that. And while Blaine wasn't by any means a virgin, he still thought that he had a good amount of control over his thoughts and body. And then, of course, life decided to throw him a curve ball in the form of one Kurt Hummel and sent his poor body into hyper drive. He found himself thinking about what it'd be like to have Kurt's pink, full lips around his cock, or what Kurt's sea coloured eyes would look like blown out with desire. And, despite how guilty Blaine felt because he _knew_ from the nightmares Kurt sometimes had that sexual advances were not welcome, his body heartedly agreed with his train of thoughts. Blaine had really done his best to keep the thoughts at bay, thinking about saggy boobs and old, dusty vaginas, but then Kurt would lick his lips, or suck on a spoon to get the last of the chocolate pudding he was so fond of, and Blaine would be a goner.

Yep, he was doomed all right.

But Blaine figured that he was doing a pretty good job of hiding it. After all, he always took care of himself before Kurt woke up, and he never said or did anything that could even remotely be misconstrued as a pass at his beautiful but sometimes very fragile slave. In fact, he had very determinedly kept things PG-13 rated, keeping all his touches well over the southern equator, and kept his lewd thoughts to himself. He didn't want to scare Kurt or break the hard earned trust, especially when he had fought so hard to get it. So, no, Blaine was content to suffer in silence.

Blaine had woken up after a very vivid dream of a hot, squirming, sweaty Kurt under him, begging and panting for more and harder, and was about ready to slip off to the bathroom to relieve himself of the almost painful ache when he heard Kurt huff a sigh, and froze. Kurt had never woken up before, at least, not as far as he knew.

"Are you really serious right now, Blaine?"

Kurt's voice was thick with sleep, but held traces of amusement and exasperation in it. He had grown far more comfortable at treating Blaine as almost equals when around, the former training that had been beaten into him only resurfacing when he was stressed or upset. Blaine was still taken aback by his tone and made a little inquiring noise.

"Um. What?"

Blaine could dimly make out the form of Kurt sitting up in bed from where he was standing near his adjourning bathroom. The moonlight that filtered through the window made Kurt seem like some sort of fallen angel, and Blaine's heart (along with another bit of anatomy) ached at the sight. It was hard to make out Kurt's expression in the dark, but he appeared… confused.

"Do you really think that I can't feel you hard against me when we lie together? And yet, you slip out nightly and don't even talk to me at all. I don't get you, Blaine. You have a slave right in front of you, someone who you know has been trained to please, and yet you do it yourself. Why are you so strange?" Kurt sounded both angry and confused, along with a bit amused, and Blaine's heart sank.

It was common practice for slaves to be used for sexual purposes, regardless of the gender. From what Blaine had gathered from the nightmares, Kurt had been forced to do many horrible things to his old masters, and hadn't enjoyed any of it. It was a sadly commonly practiced event and wasn't against the law, even though it made Blaine's gut twist. What was worse was the fact that Kurt seemed to think that this was the idea that Kurt thought that _this _was the reason he hadn't done anything to him, that Blaine was saving him for sex.

"Because it's not your job." Blaine said quietly. "You might be legally my slave, Kurt, but to me you're just another person. And people don't force other people to… do sexual favours. That's just _wrong._"

They just looked at each other for a moment, amber eyes meeting green, and then Kurt whispered, "What if I _want_ to?"

His erection, which had been flagging due to his distressed thoughts, stood at attention at those words, making him groan. He fought to make sense through the fog in his brain, not being helped that Kurt, who only wore a long shirt and boxers to bed, was standing in front of him. "What?" He managed to stammer out.

"You're the weirdest master I've ever had. You don't hit me, don't yell at me, and don't make me do any specific jobs unless I actually ask for them. You hate slavery and yet you bought me to keep me from being killed. You encourage me to speak my mind and critique you, something that another master would kill me for. You treat me as if I'm an equal to you when, by law, I'm beneath you and should be crawling on the ground instead of walking around. You do all these things and yet you_ never_ ask me to do anything."

Blaine swallowed hard at the fierceness of Kurt's words and he shook his head. "I don't want you to do anything to thank me, Kurt. It's just how I am. I don't need you to – to take care of me as compensation for something that is a human right."

"Blaine." Kurt looked at him, sudden colour in his cheeks. "Do you think you're the only one who gets hard?"

Blaine swallowed hard. "What?"

At this point, Kurt was close enough to touch, though Blaine's hands remained frozen at his side. After studying Blaine for a moment, Kurt reached out one hand, resting it lightly on his chest. The warmth from the touch spread through Blaine's body at the small touch and he inhaled sharply. Kurt was taller than he was, and he had to look up slightly to meet his eyes.

"Kurt…"

"Shh." Kurt shushed him softly, leaning forward very slowly, fingers trembling on his chest.

"You don't have to – "

The rest of his sentence was cut off by smooth lips being pressed against his own. For a moment, they just stood there, Kurt's soft lips against his chapped ones. Almost timidly, Kurt moved his lips against his, pressing closer. Fireworks went through Blaine's system and he couldn't help the tiny mewl that escaped him. One of his arms had gone around Kurt's slender waist, tugging him closer, the other one resting on the back of Kurt's neck, sliding his fingers through the soft chestnut hair there. Kurt let out a tiny contented sound, kissing him more firmly, his mouth parting when Blaine brushed his bottom lip with his tongue softly.

Blaine gently took over control of the kiss, sliding his tongue inside of Kurt's mouth, mapping it out, a moan ripped from his throat when Kurt hesitantly sucked on his tongue. One of Kurt's hands had found its way to his hair, tightening the grip there slightly when Blaine returned the favour. Blaine took two steps back and turned slightly, pressing Kurt gently against the wall behind him, giving him better access to turn Kurt's head and deepen the kiss.

When they broke apart, they were both panting, hands tangled in hair and in clothing. Unable to help himself, Blaine leaned forward, pressing hot, open mouthed kisses down the pale expanse of Kurt's throats, careful not to mar the fair skin there. He sucked very lightly at the pulse beating under Kurt's ear, drawing a soft moan from Kurt, who pressed his body more firmly against Blaine's. It was then that he felt a hardness that definitely wasn't his own and he pulled back.

Kurt gazed back at him, chest heaving, lips slightly swollen from the kiss, and a sharp bolt of arousal went down Blaine's spine when he saw how blown Kurt's eyes were. God, he looked… "Beautiful." Blaine breathed. "You're beautiful, Kurt."

Colour pooled in the other boy's cheeks and he swallowed hard. "Blaine… Blaine, I…" He shifted uncomfortably. "I hurt."

Blaine's eyes widened and he swore. "I'm sorry, shit, I knew this wasn't a good idea." God, what had he done? Given into his body and now he ended up hurting the on person he didn't want to hurt, the one person that he'd give anything to protect.

"No! No, Blaine, no." Kurt's hands tugging on his hair lightly brought him out of his harsh thoughts. "You didn't hurt me." Kurt was blushing furiously. "I… down there, I ache… I've never…."

For a minute, Blaine had no idea what Kurt was talking about. Then his eyes widened. "You're – hard enough to…"

Kurt nodded quickly. "I've never been…." He shifted. "Hard. Like this… my other masters didn't care…."

Blaine could finish the sentence _if I was hard or not before they fucked me._ Blaine swallowed hard. "Have you ever… before you went into…."

"No." Kurt said it almost miserably, shrinking in on himself. "I didn't… it felt awkward and I…"

Blaine could see a thin film of tears appearing and leaned forward, reaching down to take his hand as he kissed Kurt softly, just a chaste, sweet kiss. He wiped the tears away with his thumb, whispering, "It's okay, Kurt, it's okay. What do you want?"

Kurt looked a bit overwhelmed, though a determined glint touched those eyes Blaine adored so much. "Touch – touch me?"

"Are you sure?" Blaine didn't want to trigger any bad memories or push too hard and end up hurting Kurt. Kurt obviously thought it over, Blaine's hands running up and down his arms.

Finally, Kurt nodded. "You won't hurt me." There was no doubt in his voice, and Kurt smiled shyly. "Show me how good it feels?"

Blaine nodded and captured his lips again. He kissed him softly, tugging on his bottom lip gently with his teeth, Kurt's lips parting obediently. He gently sucked Kurt's tongue into his mouth, swallowing the moan that Kurt made. He reached down one hand to rub softly over his stomach and waistband of his boxers, noting the tensing and breaking away. He pressed kisses down his neck, finding that spot that had made his gasp earlier, biting down gently over his pulse as he covered Kurt's clothed cock with one hand. He pressed his palm down and rubbed in a firm circle over the head, and a low moan rumbled in Kurt's chest, his head falling to the side.

"O-oh… Blaine…."

Blaine swallowed hard, the moan going straight to his cock. Forcing his own desire away, he rubbed over the straining organ in Kurt's boxers, watching him as he bucked into the hand. In a heart stopping moment, Kurt pushed his hand away slightly, and Blaine groaned softly when he tugged Blaine forward to slot their hips together.

"Like this? Wanna feel you too, Blaine." Kurt breathed it in his ear, bucking his hips against Blaine's, the hard lines of their cocks catching and the friction making both of them moan.

Blaine knew that he wasn't going to last long, with him still being worked up from his dream earlier, then the fact that he was feeling _Kurt's_ cock against his own, that_ Kurt_ was placing messy and hot kisses all over Blaine's neck and lips. That it was Kurt who was panting in his ear, hands tight around his neck and in his hair.

And when Kurt tensed in his arms, body shaking and letting out a cry of, "Blaine!", coming hard in his boxers, it was only seconds before Blaine toppled over the edge as well, coming so hard he saw white, Kurt's name exploding from his lips, body shaking.

The two of them stood there for a while, Blaine holding Kurt, who had sagged against his chest. Blaine could feel his heartbeat against his own, rapid as his breathing. Kurt didn't say anything as Blaine moved shooed him into the bathroom, handing him a fresh pair of boxers to change into, nor did he say a word when they climbed into bed again. The silence was scaring Blaine – what if he had pushed too far? – and when he felt Kurt shaking against him, Blaine bit his lip.

"Kurt? Are you – did I – "

Kurt turned in his arms, looking up at Blaine with tears in his eyes, but he was smiling. Blaine's words were cut off again with a kiss. Blaine was startled but melted into it, confused as ever.

"Kurt, why are you crying?"

Kurt was watching Blaine with some unidentified emotion in his eyes, one pale hand playing with a sweaty curl. "That… that felt _good_, Blaine. So good. Amazing. " He breathed it.

Blaine felt himself blush, which was totally ridiculous when looking at what they had just done, and he felt a pleased smile touch his lips. "I'm glad you thought so. But why are you crying?"

Kurt stroked his hand against Blaine's cheek, his eyes fluttering shut at the gentle touch. "Because I'm not afraid anymore. Because you do care about me. Because your touch doesn't hurt. Because… God, Blaine. Because you're you." Kurt's tinkling laugh filled his room, and Blaine wrapped his arms more firmly around Kurt, warmth filling him when Kurt snuggled back against him.

"Well… you're welcome." Blaine murmured against the skin of his neck. "I'll never hurt you."

Blaine swore that his heart skipped a beat at the smile Kurt gave him, breathtaking and open, as he said "I know, Blaine." Kurt burrowed into his arms more. "I know." He repeated sleepily.

That night, they fell asleep in each other's arms, smiling and finally at peace.

* * *

Miles away, two figures, a boy and a girl, were avidly reading a computer screen. The large boy yawned and rubbed his eyes, earning a glare from the girl, who suddenly let out a shriek and pointed to something on the screen, making the boy jumped.

"Found him! Look, right here. 'Head of Anderson corporation . son turns seventeen and buys…' the girl swallowed hard 'reject slave.' Look, there are even pictures! We found him!"

"Anderson corporation? The music group Mr. Schue was talking about?"

"Yes, they're one of the top producers in the music industry. Their headquarters are in Westerville – that's about two hours from here!"

"Lemme go tell my mom." The boy raced from the room, knocking down a couple chairs over in the process, yelling through the house for his mother, leaving the girl alone in his room.

"Don't worry, Kurt. We'll save you." She murmured, quickly writing something down on a scrap of paper before shutting the laptop. "No matter what the cost."


	6. I'll Be There

**Hello all! Never fear, I am back from the dead! I've had some real life problems, my grandmother dying and going to her funeral, so my muse has been kind of shot. But I refuse to let this fic die. Every review and favourite has mad me smile, so thank you so very much! I rewrote this chapter like eight times and still don't like it, but it's essential tot he plot. I'm not seeing very many chapters left, so hang on! Review as always, if you're so inclined! **

**Warnings: Uh. Angst. Mentions of sex. **

* * *

Kurt Hummel had a problem, and its name was a curly haired boy named Blaine Anderson.

It wasn't that Blaine had treated him wrong, or anything. In fact, Kurt was _happy. _It was still a foreign concept that sometimes he'd catch himself smile for no reason, that he didn't feel the need to jump at any little sound, or that he could actually bicker with Blaine without fearing a blow from his hand. In fact, most of the time he looked forward to their playful banter, the way Blaine's amber eyes would light up when he laughed. Or the crinkles by his eyes when he smiled, or the careful way he held him close when they slept, or the way Blaine would say his name like it was a caress, or how he could barely take his eyes off of the teenager who was more likely to dance around the room to some obnoxious Katy Perry song than sit down for two seconds and do his English homework, but Kurt couldn't even bring himself to chide him because he was _gorgeous_.

If you didn't already figure it out, here's putting it plain – Kurt was head over heels for Blaine Anderson, something that made his kind hearted master both the blessing and bane of his existence.

Ever since the breakthrough a week earlier, it was like Blaine couldn't keep his hands off of Kurt, and he definitely wasn't complaining. He loved the way Blaine's calloused hands felt against his skin, how the strong touch was so incredibly gentle, like he was something to be treasured ( "_You are, Kurt. You're treasured by me."_ Blaine insisted one night.). And not all of it was sexual, too. Most of the time, it was a simple touch, a touch of a fingertip. For the longest time, Kurt had only thought of touch as being a source of pain, the gentle touches of his father fading in his memory in favour of unkind and harsh blows.

Blaine was the perfect person to fall in love with.

It was against all sorts of social codes. One simply didn't fall in love with a slave, or a slave with their master. It just didn't happen, and when Kurt what realized the warmth he felt in his heart, he had locked himself in the bathroom and cried. Loving Blaine was going to be the hardest and easiest thing in the world to do, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He thought about asking Blaine to give him space, to not touch him, but his whole entire _being_ screamed in protest at that. No matter how much pain he was in, he couldn't bear to be separated from the boy who had earned his heart.

He knew Blaine cared about him. Kurt wasn't blind to the soft looks that Blaine set his way, or the genuine concern that had hovered about the young man since day one. And sometimes that made it worse. The way that Blaine always seemed to know what he meant, always seemed to be in sync with him, always seemed to be _there._ Blaine cared, yes, but just in the way that someone would care about their favourite pet. Who they spent nights together. And really hot make out sessions.

But no matter the pain from loving someone he could never have (he noted wryly that this was just the love story he had loved as a child), Kurt was happy. The walls of Blaine's room was safe, Blaine's arms were home, and it's all he really wanted. He wasn't legally free, but when he was with Blaine… things like that seemed to disappear.

Until one day his safe place was shattered.

He and Blaine had been snuggling out on the couch, watching some trashy TV show that Blaine [i]insisted[/i] was a good TV show (What kind of name was Glee anyway? Seriously? How boring.) but he was skeptic of. However, the warmth of Blaine's body and the chuckles that rumbled through his chest at the antics on the screen was enough to keep Kurt there, tracing designs on his master's chest and watching him. Every so often Blaine would press kisses to his forehead and temple, the knot inside of Kurt's stomach tightening and loosening all at the same time. He didn't notice the adoring look shot his way, for which he was glad. It'd be a bit hard to explain to a boy who just showed interesting in his friendship and his body that he was head over heels, Romeo and Juliet deep, in love with him.

Blaine was about to explain the complicated relationship between the two main characters when the doorbell rang, causing him to frown. His parents, like always, were on yet another trip – Hawaii this time. And since it was a Thursday afternoon, most people would be in school at one in the afternoon. Kurt got to his feet, sending his master a flat look when he opened his mouth to presumably protest, to answer the door.

Never in a million years did he expect to see who was standing at the door.

"R-Rachel? Finn?"

His vision went in and out, and he barely heard Rachel's squeal of "Kurt!" before he collapsed into Blaine's arms in a dead faint.

* * *

Blaine really had absolutely no fucking idea what was going on. One minute he was watching a TV show with Kurt, and then all of a sudden two teenagers who claimed to know Kurt were sitting in his living room, watching the comatose boy who was lying on the couch in an almost starved manner. Blaine wasn't sure if he should trust the burly boy and the tiny brown haired girl, especially since Kurt had _collapsed_ upon sight of them.

"So, you're telling me… you know Kurt? How?" Frowning slightly, Blaine leaned against the doorway, eyeing the couple on his couch.

"Yes, absolutely," piped up the brown haired girl, who had introduced herself as Rachel Berry. "He's a fabulous countertenor that belongs in his rightful place amongst stars like me and Finn, back at McKinley and –"

"What Rachel's saying is that yes, we know him." The boy shifted uncomfortably, looking at Blaine. "I'm actually his stepbrother."

"Step – then why the hell was he put into circulation!?" Blaine demanded it through narrowed eyes, not trusting the two of them as far as they could throw them, making his way to sit carefully next to Kurt, putting the pale boy's head in his lap.

Blaine knew his history. The slavery system had been set up because there had been far too my orphans and unwanted children in the system. At first, that's all it had been for, for those who were too young to be productive members of society, and who were freed upon their 18th birthday. But time had moved on and now, if your parents died an no one had a legal claim to you, or no living relatives, – or, Blaine knew from his father's stories, if the price was right – you were sold into slavery with no hope to ever be freed. Slaves were most often sold by their own families with clauses in the deed that prevented them from ever becoming free. Blaine hadn't read such clause in the paperwork he had gotten with Kurt, but he wasn't about to jump to conclusions now.

"Well, the thing is… Burt – Kurt's dad – died of a heart attack before the legal waiting period to adopt was up. So Mom couldn't claim him as ours. Kurt had been spending the night with Rachel here when he was taken…" Finn looked at Rachel, whose big brown eyes were full of tears.

"He screamed and fought, and my Dads tried to stop them, but they wouldn't have any of it," Rachel said in a mousy tone. "They ended up using a stun gun on him to knock him out."

Blaine reflexively tightened his grip on the boy lying in his lap. Kurt had fought. He hadn't wanted to be a slave. God, why would you? Blaine couldn't doubt the sincerity in Rachel's voice, and he knew it happened more often than not. When a couple with children got married, they had to wait six months before they had any legal ties to the other spouse's child. It had been rotten luck that Kurt's father had died, especially when he did, and Blaine wanted nothing more than to go back and change time.

Instead, he cleared his throat, saying quietly, "So why are you guys here?"

The two teenagers exchanged looks, and then Rachel spoke. "Well, Mr. Anderson –"

"Blaine."

"Very well, Blaine. We were hoping that you were interested in selling Kurt. We know that he is going to be – "

"Absolutely not!" Blaine snapped it, eyes cold enough to make Rachel flinch. "You think I'm going to sell him to his former friend and stepbrother? So he could serve you like some twisted version of Cinderella? Do you know how much that's going to hurt him? Fuck no."

"Whoa, man, cool it. You didn't let her finish," Finn said in defense of what had to be his girlfriend, from the way they were seated. "Once you hopefully sell him to us, we're going to set him free. I know it's hard to do, but since she is legally now a Hummel, Burt's friends have offered to help, and we plan to move to New York. Slavery just got banned there, ya know."

Blaine felt like something cold twisted in his stomach even as his heart lifted. Free. They were going to free Kurt. They didn't want to own him, to hurt him, or do anything like that. They were going to free him and take him to New York, where he could live the life he should be leading. Not stamped down and stifled, forced into a life that he doesn't want. He could be free to live his own life.

Away from Blaine. He would have to give up all legal claim to Kurt if he did that, and it was greatly frowned upon for a master to keep in contact with their former slaves. The government thought it encouraged rebellion and spying, and even if Kurt was freed like Finn was saying, Blaine wouldn't be able to go near him without the government keeping tabs on him. Even more so if that _did_ free Kurt, since the government wouldn't want to take the chance of a lawsuit in case Blaine decided that he wanted Kurt back as a slave.

He wouldn't though.

His gut twisted as he looked down at the pale boy. The choice was obvious, of course, and that's what made it terrible. He was in love with Kurt. He loved the way his eyes danced when he truly smiled, the witty remarks that made Kurt who he was, the way that his confidence and vivacious personality now managed shine through even after what he had gone through. He loved him because of the vulnerable moments, the way that Kurt would cling to him, like he was asking Blaine to never let him go. Or the tentative kisses they shared at night that gave way into something hotter, more primal. Losing Kurt... His heart seemed to seize up, and some part of him died.

He couldn't keep Kurt here. He couldn't keep the gorgeous bird in his arms locked in a cage.

But it'd kill him to let him go.

"Blaine? Are you okay?"

Blaine knew the answer. He was surprised his voice didn't waver when he said, "One dollar. I'll give you to him for one dollar." He would've just given him to them, but the law required some sort of exchange of paper money to seal the deal. As Finn and Rachel gaped in shock, obviously thinking he'd fight, he retrieved Kurt's paperwork, signing everything over with cold efficiency he needed to keep up in order not to fall apart. "There."

Rachel took the paperwork, reading it over, obviously thinking it was a trick of some sort. When she concluded otherwise, she gazed at Blaine. "I don't understand why you're - "

"Blaine?"

Kurt's voice, soft as it was, cut through Rachel's confused tone. Blaine looked down into those ocean coloured eyes he loved so much and felt another piece of him break and fall into Kurt.

"Blaine, what's going on..."

"Hey, buddy!" Finn leaned forward, missing Kurt's flinched, who turned his wide eyes to his stepbrother. "You're coming home with us, Blaine sold you, and now -"

"What?!" Kurt looked at Blaine so fast he swore he heard the pale boy's neck snap. "You what? Blaine, you promised! You promised you'd keep me safe, that you'd stay with me! That you wouldn't leave me!"

"Kurt, please... They're your family and you're going to be freed." Blaine said as soothingly as he could. "I _am _protecting you."

"I don't want to go, I want to stay here with you!"

"Kurt, honey..." Rachel said it quietly. "Blaine already sold you to us."

Blaine would never forget the utter betrayal on Kurt's face, or the pain. He would never forget the way Kurt drew away from him, arms around his middle, heartbreak on his face. Or the way that tears rolled down Kurt's cheeks, face pale, bottom lip trembling.

"You said you were different." Kurt whispered. "You said you would never sell me, never make me do anything... Why? Why are you doing this, Blaine?"

Blaine got up and turned away, looking at the wall, unable to look at Kurt in the eye as he spoke. He knew that if he continued to look, he'd cave, and he couldn't do that. He couldn't. Kurt was angry and upset but he wasn't thinking clearly. He was getting his _freedom _from this. And if that meant that Blaine was breaking his word... so be it. Even if it made Kurt hate him, abuse his trust, or even if it broke Blaine's heart... It didn't matter.

"Leave, Kurt. I don't want to see you ever again." Blaine's voice was harsh, and he heard the intake of breath. "Get out of my sight. You're not mine... and I don't want you anymore. Go."

The lie was held in the air for a moment. Blaine couldn't hear above the blood in his ears, but he heard Finn say something to him, heard sobbing and crying and Rachel whispering something soft and soothing, before the door shut and he was met by silence.

For a moment, Blaine did nothing.

Then he crumpled to the ground, sobbing his heart out like a brokenhearted child.


	7. And I'll Cover You

**Oh my God, guys. I can't believe how patient you all have been, and I'm so sorry for the wait. Life got a bit crazy, and my muse kind of died, but here I am, with the next chapter. There will only be one more chapter of ICY, plus an epilogue. Thank you so much for sticking with me, and please review if you'd like!**

**Song used is: "Without You", from RENT.**

* * *

Adjusting to life as someone who was free in New York was hard.

In the first couple months of Kurt's freedom, he felt… lost. He was so used to commands and having restrictions on him that most days, he had just hid in his room, despite urgings to come out. And sometimes he would have breakdowns over nothing in particular, from simple things like being able to watch whatever he wanted on TV without asking, to being able to go to the store and buy the things he wanted. Half the time Kurt lived in fear that this was some wild dream he had made up top cope with the abuse, and that one day he'd wake up to find that it was all a lie.

Carole, Finn and Rachel helped as much as they could. Carole and Kurt spent most of their free time together, Carole latching onto the only thing that was left of the husband she had loved and lost so early, Kurt clinging to the woman his father had obviously adored. Carole didn't mind holding him when he randomly burst into tears, never minded gently reminding him that he could do whatever he wanted in the house, and loved to let him help out when the urges to serve that had drilled into him were too great to ignore. The fact that she was a soft spoken woman made it easier for him to adjust to being around her, and Kurt quickly came to love her.

Finn and Rachel were a bit harder. He remembered them, of course, but that still didn't prepare him for how dynamic they were. Rachel was as loud as ever, her gestures wide and emphatic, often raising her voice with excitement, which always sent Kurt cowering, his body expecting a blow even though his mind reminded him that this was Rachel Berry, who had bawled for days at the sight of someone cracking an egg open. And she did try, very hard in fact, to tone it down around Kurt, something he was grateful for. Kurt did love the fact that she went out and bought a new iPod, loading it with all his favourite music ( "And some choices I added because your musical taste was lacking, Kurt. Seriously, how could you not have Funny Girl on here?"), and Kurt quickly was reminded as to why she was his best friend.

Finn was a different story entirely. While he wasn't the jock who had mistreated him, or any of his cruel masters, the fact that he was so big and loud caused Kurt to flinch whenever he walked into the room. He knew that it hurt Finn, and he tried not to, but it was hard to ignore his body's programming. It didn't matter that they were family, or that Finn had helped rescue him, the fear was still there. It helped when Finn was with Rachel, or with Carole, and Kurt could see how dopey the young man really was. He even found himself relaxing when Finn goofed off in the living room, singing some obnoxious rock and roll song and nearly breaking a vase when he was dancing around. It just took time.

Reconnecting with his old friends was a somewhat overwhelming experience. They all visited at once, which was mind blowing in and of itself, and he cried so much he was surprised his face wasn't permanently stained with tears. He and Mercedes had cried for hours, clinging to each other as Tina handed them tissues. He had to convince Santana that, no, she couldn't go after the guys who had taken them away, and Brittany was so happy that her "lost unicorn" posters had actually helped. Kurt was welcomed back with open arms by everyone, and sometimes, he couldn't believe that this was actually his life. He had a home, he had family, friends, people who loved him.

So he felt selfish when he realized that he wasn't _happy_.

He actively avoided any thought of Blaine. It simply hurt too much. But sometimes, he would hear a song and it would remind him of how Blaine would dramatically serenade him with it, or he'd catch a whiff of cologne that reminded him of the one Blaine would use, and he would break down in tears. He'd have dreams of the curly haired boy, laughing and smiling, telling him he was beautiful, that he was safe, that he was _wanted_. He dreamt of Blaine's gentle hands on his skin, of light butterfly kisses, and of passionate embraces. Everything inside of him longed for Blaine, to hold him and be held, and the fact that Blaine just… gave him away, hurt.

Nearly seven months after Kurt was freed, he opened up to his therapist about him. Emma Pillsbury was the school counselor, and Carole had thought that he should see someone at least relatively familiar. At first he hadn't been comfortable with opening up to anyone, knowing that his problems were many and that it would probably take a long time to fix, but Emma was a kind, patient young woman. She didn't push him, but posed questions that made him think, and listened when he spoke without judgment. When he finally spilled his thoughts about Blaine, she was silent for a while, neatening up her already perfect desk.

Finally, she asked softly, "Kurt, do you love him? And if so, do you think it's just because he was kind to you, or what?"

It was a simple question, one that he thankfully didn't even have to think about. His entire body provided the answer and, wiping his eyes, he nodded. "Yes, I love him." Kurt whispered it, sitting back on the couch, pulling his legs to his chest. "And maybe it started out that way… but I love _him_. The way he smiled when he talked, how he was so enthusiastic about everything, his eyes…" All of those things that hurt to remember.

"Do you think he loves you?"

That question had been the one that he had wrestled with all this time. He had thought that Blaine loved him. The way that Blaine looked at him, as if he was the only thing in the room, or the gentle touches that were filled with so much tenderness… seeing Finn and Rachel do those same things had convinced him that Blaine had loved him. But if so, why had he just… given him away, when he had promised to keep him? Logically, he knew that Blaine probably just wanted what was best, but Kurt had wanted to stay with him. He had wanted to stay, and Blaine hadn't even listened.

"I… think so? I meant, he always… looked at me as if I was the most important thing in the world." Kurt finally answered. "But he just watched me leave… and he hasn't even contacted me!" Kurt knew it was frowned upon to contact a slave once they were freed, but he thought that Blaine would, even if it was just to see if he was okay.

Emma rubbed hand sanitizer onto her hands, watching him through compassionate eyes. "Kurt, have you heard of the saying, 'if you love someone, set them free. If they come back, they're yours. If they don't, they never were'?" When Kurt shook his head, she continued. "Drawing from what you're telling me, this Blaine boy cared deeply about you. So deeply, in fact, that he went beyond what you both wanted to what was _right._ And, yes, while slavery is technically right and allowed, it wasn't what he felt was morally right. Setting you free was."

Kurt bit his lip, worrying it between his teeth. Blaine hated slavery, he knew that, the passionate rants that Blaine had gone on convincing him of that. And he knew that Blaine was a noble person, just from the way he had rescued him. "But why hasn't he at least tried to contact me? To check up on me? If he loved me, he'd do that, right?"

Emma sighed, looking at him. "Kurt… you realize you're might not be the only one hurting here, right?" Taking Kurt's surprised look as a no, she continued. "Maybe it hurts too much, losing you. Or maybe he just wants to make a clean break, in hopes that it'll help you. Maybe he's scared to. There's a number of reasons, Kurt. Why do you expect the worst of him?"

Kurt's eyes filled with tears. "Because – because without him, I'm not happy. And… it's easier to think that he d-doesn't want me, to try and get over him, to think that he wants me and let me go. I feel so selfish, loving him and wanting him, when I have everything here. Why do I want _more_?"

Emma reached out, touching the top of Kurt's hand, eyes gentle and filled with sympathy. "The heart wants for what it wants, Kurt. No one's blaming you for that." She sat back, fiddling with her fingers. "And who says he's the only one who can contact you? If you want to hear from him so badly, why don't you write him a letter?"

Kurt was thunderstruck, honestly not even considering that option. That night, he went home from counseling filled with a determination that hadn't been seen since he had been sold. He spent days writing and rewriting the letter, getting the address from Rachel, who was all too happy to give it to him ( "It's like Romeo and Juliet, Kurt. You're living your own fairytail!" "You do realize by the end of Romeo and Juliet, six people died, right, Rach?" "Stop bursting my bubble, Tina, those facts don't matter.") He waited breathlessly for a response, disappointed when none came. That didn't stop him from writing every single day, hoping that Blaine would reach out to him.

It wasn't until it was a nearly a year after he had been freed when Kurt's efforts bore fruit. But it wasn't in the way he expected.

Rachel blew into the Hudson house, babbling with excitement, talking about how there was a musical festival happening down in Time's Square and they _had_ to go. Kurt had gotten a bit more of his confidence back, though walking around New York alone still frightened him. Carole always laughed, saying that was normal, that most people in general were a bit nervous too. But a day out would be fun, he supposed, so he agreed to tag along with Rachel and Finn. Rather predictably, Rachel dragged them all over, critiquing the different groups like she was the expert on music.

Rolling his eyes, Kurt wandered off one direction to grab some water, when a familiar, haunting voice stopped him dead in his tracks.

"_Without you, the ground thaws, the rain falls, the grass grows._

_Without you, the seeds root, the flowers bloom, the children play._

_The stars gleam, the poets dream, the eagles fly, without you._

_The earth turns, the sun burns, but I die, without you..._"

There, not a few feet away from him, stood Blaine Anderson, his eyes closed as he sang. He looked older, his curls slicked back to his head, wearing a dark blue and red uniform. Guys behind him, all around his age, were singing background, all a capella. Blaine was front and centre, a small crowd gathering around him, his voice as rich as Kurt remember, but with something so achingly sad it brought tears to his eyes. Blaine was _here_ and this song… Kurt remembered one light night conversation about their favourite songs, and Kurt had mentioned this being one of them. The pain that was ringing in Blaine's voice tugged at his heartstrings, and he could only watch as Blaine sang.

When the last note ended, Blaine's eyes opened, and even from this distance, Kurt could see tears shimmering in their amber depths. Blaine bowed to the applause that echoed the small area, and as he was turning around, Kurt couldn't help but push forward, crying out over the noise, "Blaine!"

Kurt watched as Blaine froze, his heart in his throat as the boy slowly turned around, waiting for Blaine's frantic eyes to settle on him, to see him. And when they did, honey eyes met glasz, and something inside of him both broke and mended as Blaine stepped forward, disbelief in his eyes.

"_Kurt."_


End file.
